


it's a short life

by xighs



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Pining, Pining Jean Kirstein, Porn With Plot, Rare Pairings, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29899965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xighs/pseuds/xighs
Summary: He looks into those startled grey eyes of hers, like storm clouds mulling on where to strike lightning next. "I don't want to spend the night alone," his mouth does that thing where it moves traitorously on its own again, damn it. His face feels hot but it's too late to choke down his words now. Might as well."You said," he starts, "to live every moment of my life."Pieck's stunned expression doesn't change.He sucks in a breath. "I don't want to watch it pass by without taking the chances I should've took."
Relationships: Pieck Finger/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 22
Kudos: 80





	it's a short life

**Author's Note:**

> takes place in chapter 132; the alliance's last night on the ship before tomorrow's war where jean and pieck have a moment of respite together.
> 
> dedicated to the biggest jean stan i know: becky, who has claimed the "ruggedly handsome" term used in this fic for jean and only jean :,)
> 
> (inspired by this lovely [fanart](https://twitter.com/la_crospa/status/1362141442521649155) where i tagged her in! ❤️)

"Hey."

Pieck turns, dragging a cigarette from her lips. Easy, genial smile spreading from them. "Hey," she says, "how's your arm?"

He makes a move to stretch it, right hand on his left shoulder, rolling the joint there. Bandaged firm. "Manageable, thanks to you."

"Ah," she waves her free hand dismissively while the other draws another smoke. It dissipates almost elegantly through her parted lips into the cold night air. "I practice first aid on my Panzer unit all the time," her eyes crinkle. "Force of habit."

Jean approaches closer, sidling next to her by the railing, elbows rested askew against them. A few heartbeats pass in comfortable silence. The horizon stretches endless in its darkness, the line where the ocean and the sky meets indiscernible. 

This world beyond the walls is still so new to him, to think the bastard could've given them more time to revel in it before its destruction. Damn him. How many more lives will he take before he finally drags his head out of his ass. How much more bloodshed until he is satisfied.

He hears Pieck talking at the back of his mind, somewhat subdued. He pulls out of his thoughts with a shake of his head. 

"Stand here," she tilts her head to her right. "Wind's blowing the smoke west."

Jean hardly realizes it; cigarette smoke hitting his face with every puff. He nods, almost mechanically. Crosses to her right.

The great thing about Pieck is that it's so easy being with her. She doesn't expect anything from you— not conversation nor company. But if you happen to share it, she'll always welcome it.

"Listen," his mouth moves clumsily at its own accord, "I'm sorry for blowing your eye out," he exhales. "In Liberio."

When she doesn't answer he brings a hand up his neck, not daring to meet her eyes. "If Falco hadn't gone in for you, I would've—" He stammers, "—I would've killed you."

Pieck is so uncharacteristically still next to him, he doesn't know whether to shut up or go on. "Fuck, sorry—" What the hell was he thinking. "—bet you didn't want to be reminded."

"Jean." Her voice is firm.

At the corner of his eyes he sees her turn and like a pull of gravity his face is drawn to hers once more. "We were enemy soldiers. Victims of the duty entrusted to us."

He's about to speak but her hand is now thrusted upon his jaw, thumb against his bottom lip, stopping him. "Do not apologize."

Sometimes he forgets that Pieck is a high ranking Marleyan warrior, a human weapon of war. More than the calm, laidback demeanor she puts on— _someone_ has to put on. There has to be at least one mentally stable soldier amongst them or they'll all go mad with the pressure. 

Always staying composed in times of panic, always being the support her comrades needed at the right moment. Someone has to have the aptitude of being steady and sure enough to hold them together in a world that won't.

"We fight for humanity now," she says. "That's all that matters."

She feels his heart thundering against her forearm on his chest. Belatedly realizes how intimate her gesture is, the colour rising high on his cheeks. 

This boy is too young to be involved in the terrors of war. It isn't fair.

The moment shatters as she lets her hand drop. He releases a shaky breath.

"There's beer in storage," a faint smile plays along her lips. "Would hate to leave them to waste on the last night of our lives." 

Jean's expression twists. "Monkey juice?"

Pieck has to laugh at that. "Zeke's spinal fluid was infused with our red wine," she takes his hand and leads the way. "Not our beer."

Jean follows.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"—used to pine over Mikasa."

"I understand the appeal," Pieck says airily.

Jean elbows her, incredulous. "Hey, not you too!"

Laughter erupts from the both of them.

Jean doesn't know how they got here. Sharing stories of the different lives they led and how they came to be, bumping shoulders and downing beer pints. 

"Have one for me in heaven!" She cheers offhandedly to the pantry ceiling, raising her glass up before going in for a hearty gulp. 

Jean's haze of mirth momentarily dissolves into an uneasy reality. "Who was that for?"

Pieck slumps back against her seat, side glances at Jean. "Commander Magath."

But all he hears is _Shadis._

His head throbs maybe not from the buzz of alcohol— maybe from something more like survivor's guilt. He scrambles back, legs of his wooden chair scraping against epoxy like the sound of ripping cloth tearing through stale air.

"What are we even doing, Pieck," his voice cracks, "our superiors just gave their lives up for us and we—" He runs his fingers through his hair. _"We're out_ _here getting drunk."_

Pieck takes a swig. Eyes to the floor. "We might meet them tomorrow," she says, voice distant and inward as if talking to herself.

"Or the day after. Or the day after that. The point is—" She looks up at him. "We're soldiers. Our deaths will come sooner than we'd think. They knew this, and were prepared for the risks. Your Erwin knew it, Por—" His name hitches in her throat. "Porco knew it. It is a contract for death the moment we signed up."

These aren't the sleepy, unfocused eyes he's used to. These eyes staring at him now are the eyes of a seasoned warrior. Strong in their resolve yet unafraid to show vulnerability. It does not make her weak. It makes her more human than he's ever seen her.

"It's a short life for us, so," she picks up his half full pint on the table and shoves it to his chest, liquid sloshing, "drink up. Live every last moment of it. Don't be—" She catches herself. Looks down to her lap. 

Unthinkingly, Jean reaches for her cheek. Tilts her up. Doesn't say anything but the gesture alone is enough to prompt her. 

He wants to know.

"Don't be like Reiner."

It stings him quick and raw. "What do you…," his voice fails him.

"You know what I mean," Pieck ends the conversation, voice grim. She gently pushes Jean's hand away to resume her drink.

The air of levity has ceased for awhile now. It's getting late too. Beside him, he feels Pieck shift.

Finally, "Jean," she says, rising slowly from her seat, a tired half smile on her lips. "I'll see you in battle tomorrow."

She starts to leave but Jean catches her wrist. It is so slender, his rough fingers encircle it in full. So dainty he thinks he might break it. 

He looks into those startled grey eyes of hers, like storm clouds mulling on where to strike lightning next. "I don't want to spend the night alone," his mouth does that thing where it moves traitorously on its own again, damn it. His face feels hot but it's too late to choke down his words now. Might as well.

"You said," he starts, "to live every moment of my life."

Pieck's stunned expression doesn't change. 

He sucks in a breath. "I don't want to watch it pass by without taking the chances I should've took."

"That's very," Pieck tries to find the right word, _"bold_ of you, Jean, but—" She deftly twists out of his grip, not meaning to offend him, but to put forth some distance. "You're _so young_ ," she closes her eyes resolutely, bringing a hand up to her forehead. "Barely even twenty," she sighs.

Jean stands abruptly, towering over her. "You don't find me attractive enough to sleep with, is that it?" _Why the hell is he getting so worked up for?_

 _"You,"_ she jabs a finger to his taut chest, unfazed by his ridiculous claim, "are my subordinate." She thinks of Reiner, Annie, Bertolt and Marcel. Thinks of the parental roles she and Zeke have taken to lead them in their unit. They're now Jean's age. 

It's almost unthinkable, what he's suggesting.

"You shouldn't be saying things like th—"

He smothers the rest of her sentence in a fiery kiss, hands thrusting upward to grasp supple cheeks. His alcohol-tinged tongue swipes hot against her, the taste of him intoxicating as he pries in. She finds herself instinctively parting her lips to take him, almost like muscle memory from all the times she has been kissed before and she—

She fists his shirt, pushing him just enough for her to catch her breath as they part. "You are drunk," she says.

"You wanted me drunk."

"I wanted to cheer you up!" She says, exasperated, and about to continue her chide when he stops her in another heady kiss. A peck or two and then treading lower to soft jaw, down to the underside of her neck. Pieck hums, grip slackening. 

_This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong._

"Tell me to stop, then," he says as if reading her thoughts, voice husky as his mouths south against her, "tell me to stop." He finds her collarbone, planting a sweet kiss there. 

Maybe it's the alcohol driving him, maybe it's his dick. But if there's one known truth fished out of this mess it's his growing respect for Pieck as his ally, his partner, his senior. Day by day it grows and now that they're tethering on the prospect of the world ending tomorrow, he cannot bring himself to stall any longer.

He holds her tight against him as he ravishes her neck-down and though her eyebrows crease in objection, he feels her body unmistakably melt against him. "We should get ready for bed," she says finally. 

He looks up at her questioningly.

Hesitantly, she threads her fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch.

She might regret this in her short life someday.

* * *

"Up."

"Fuck the bandage, can't we just—"

"But I spent so much time on it," Pieck shrugs, smile sheepish.

It's maddening how youthfully innocent she looks in this expression despite her standing nude, nipples hardened from the cold shower— or something else, in front of him.

Jean's ears feel hot trying to keep his eyes level to hers and not wander. He's not a fucking teenager. 

"Fine, fine," he acquiesces, lifting his arm up so Pieck could reach down his flank. She scrubs the soapy wash cloth tentatively from the side of his ribs to hip, careful not to get her handiwork on his bandage wet. "I can wash myself, you know," he grumbles after a moment.

Pieck treads down the lean muscles in his abdomen, then lower, fingers deliberately splaying against him as she meets him below. The wash cloth slips from her hold, dropping in a squelch onto a shower tile.

Jean swallows, feeling her shift behind him now, lips brushing against earlobe. "You wanted this."

She gives him a pump and it rips a groan right off his throat. "Yeah?" He manages to grit out while she works on him. "You wouldn't agree to it if you hadn't wanted it too."

Her full breasts press mercilessly against his back and it takes every ounce of his self control not to flip over and take her right then and there. Not until she asks for it.

 _"Pieck,"_ his voice is so hoarse he is practically begging now.

"You asked if I thought you unattractive," she says, availing her free hand to roam against the sculpt of his stomach while the other continues to pump. He is of muscle and sinew, hard planes over boyish youth. Almost like its out of place. 

But when he turns his head to her and they lock eyes she thinks maybe they match the maturity there after all. She thinks these eyes have seen too much.

Wonders what he might see in her own.

"You are a fool to think I don't," she surges forward to plant lips against sharp jaw, stubble tickling her until she meets the corner of his mouth. Jean can't take the agonizing pace any longer so he jerks his head further for their mouths to meet in full, indulgently sucking onto her lower lip like a yearning satiated.

"Pieck, goddammit— just—" He mutters against her as she repays the favour twice as good. Covers his hand over hers to ease her out of her grip, taking control from her as he turns around urgently to pin her against the wall. Those delicate wrists of hers pliant in his hold as he catches them idle without his touch.

He slides down along her toned arms, smearing residue of soap he hasn't yet rinsed off. Her skin is glistening in a lewd shine that makes his dick throb. When he roams his hands over her breasts a contented sigh escapes her parted lips and when he tweaks her rosy buds between his fingers soft mewls are pulled from her. Sounds he has never heard from her before.

Wants to hear again. 

He hates how he's letting this get to his head but he can tell this much that she wants him too. Just as badly as he wants her.

A lazy smile graces her lips and it's as sultry as the look she gives him from underneath her long lashes, eyes glazed.

She slides a suggestive leg upwards, tracing a line up his calf— and something snaps in him. The same feeling of rush that drove him into kissing her the first time. 

He hoists her up between him and the wall, aligning himself to her. "Pieck, I need y—"

"Me too," she exhales, unthinking.

It makes his head buzz seeing her so needy.

He doesn't waste a second longer as he enters her, grunting as he feels her shudder, walls enveloping him. He kisses her comfortingly as she eases around his girth, slowly sinking in deeper.

She takes him off guard when she whispers, in a high, "Jean, you are stunning," and so ruggedly handsome it's almost annoying to look at. Her lips quirk up at the sudden thought and then makes to roll at her hips. A guttural sound escapes at the back of his throat as he starts to meet her movements, shallow and frantic.

The chants that surpass his lips are a mixture of _Pieck_ and _fuck_ and as she gradually slips from his hold supporting the back of her thighs, he shoves her up higher once more, forearms tucked under her cheeks. 

The sound of shoulder blades hitting hard against ceramic hits him, momentarily pulling him out of his haze. He starts to recoil. _"Shit, you okay?"_

The corner of Pieck's mouth twitches in amusement. "I could ask the same to you," she brushes fingertips against his bandaged bicep straining to carry her weight. Then lower to trace the protruding vein along his forearm.

Jean makes a non-committal noise at the back of his throat, "It's nothing—"

Pieck's hips canter forward, hand grasping his face in an open-mouthed kiss. It's filthy the way her tongue moves against his, _of course she'd be so fucking experienced,_ and _oh—_ he could hear himself slipping a groan or two into her, not very manly of him, damn it— the sound reverberating throughout their conjoined bodies, making her shiver. 

Jean hates to admit it but _that_ actually boosts his confidence a little.

Pieck doesn't allow him to bask in the liberty for long as she shoves him back hard, catching him off guard once more at her roughhousing. She has the gall to look embarrassed as she makes to pry his hands off of her and drops to stand, legs shaky. She turns him as she switches their positions, smile apologetic. Gently pushes him back against the wall. "Trust me?"

Jean huffs out a short, frenzied laugh. "You're killing me here, Pieck."

She thumbs his jaw, rubbing it smooth as her other hand is placed gently right over his hammering heart. She nears in for a lazy kiss as she begins to slide their bodies lower and lower until they hit the floor. "You feel good, you know," she slurs, nuzzling the bridge of his nose. He clasps both hands onto her cheeks as she eases in onto her straddle, pale thighs flush on his own. He cannot stop himself from groaning the second time she sinks into him.

Her hips grind slow and lazy against him, taking her sweet time. Jean curses, bucking his groin upwards involuntarily and Pieck clucks her tongue in disapproval, slotting her lips against his as she sucks on his tongue so hard it stings.

His hands shoot up to cup her pert breasts, thumbing at her buds until she whines. _Be patient_ is what she chastises but _I need you now_ is what he replies. 

She falls forward as he thrusts steady against her, head lolling on his shoulder. His hands rearrange themselves down to the small of her back, the swell of her ass, the back of her thighs where a sheen of sweat has formed. 

She starts to tremble when his rhythm turns erratic and he feels her body gradually giving out in a series of spasms. She's almost there.

He brings his lips down to the crown of her dark hair, comforting. _"Pieck,"_ he says against them.

 _"I'm close,"_ she says back to the crook of his neck. 

_"Come here,"_ he angles his head to her as she weakly lifts hers up for their lips to meet once more.

His right hand snakes up her spine and pushes her closer to deepen the kiss and she lets out a soft moan as he begins to suckle against her swollen folds. She parts from him abruptly to release a shaky breath, a whine, a _don't stop—_

And her eyes are wet, her hair is disheveled, her lips pink and sore and dewed in his spit and _fuck,_ she is the most beautiful creature he's ever beheld and it's one whole cruel, sick joke by the universe that he might lose her tomorrow just when he's only started to know her—

Her arms clutch around his neck as she releases a scream into his shoulder, her walls clamping him tight that sets him off soon after as he frantically tries to withdraw from her, so close to release— she grips his hands on her thighs, stopping him from shoving her off. _"Pieck!"_ He rasps, thick and desperate as he comes, too late, into her. The best feeling in the world, the worst, and then comes the horror in his eyes after the high. Ecstacy lasting ephemeral; another cruel joke from the universe.

He grasps her face fervently, shaking off his stupor. _"Why,"_ he searches her eyes.

Pieck lets out a ragged breath. "Shifters are," she smiles lethargically in a guise of reassurance but it only comes out sad, and a little broken, "infertile."

It breaks him tenfold. A myriad of polarizing emotions experienced in one vulnerable moment. He wraps her in a hug, cooing into her hair, "Pieck… Pieck, I…," it's like a sob caught in his throat as he gently rocks her, "I never knew…"

She strokes his hair, kissing his neck where her face now burrows. 

Is he comforting her or is she comforting him?

* * *

"Soldier," she says ironically in a murmur, fingers brushing against his cheek, "duty calls."

They lie together in bed, daylight filtering in from the circular window of her barrack. 

The day the world supposedly ends could not look any more peaceful outside.

Jean shifts, eyes slowly opening and refocusing onto the warmth beside him. This woman in his arms. He feels his chest tighten as he folds in over her, reaching for her until there's no distance between them. "Is there some way to convince you to return back to Paradis with me now," he asks against her lips, against his better judgement.

Pieck kisses him chaste. Parts to gaze into those eyes that have seen too much. "We've come so far," she whispers and there's the end to that.

They take turns using the en suite bathroom and make haste to change, with Jean having no other choice than to wear back his beer-stenched clothing from last night. Pieck laughs, raising a hand up to pinch her nose and Jean throws his coat over to smother her with the stench even more. 

They leave the barrack laughing and as they are about to set off to the direction of Jean's room to retrieve a fresh set of clothes, they hear a boisterous call from behind. 

"Pieck! We've been looking all over for—" Pieck turns around just in time to witness a confused Gabi staring at an out-of-place Jean. Falco chases up to her, staggering, "Gabi, don't run off like that!" Stopping just beside her as he bends down panting, hands on his knees.

"Uh, what is Captain Kirstein doing in your room?"

Falco's head snaps up from his crouch, only now noticing Jean. His face colours.

Pieck laughs in good humour, diffusing the awkwardness. "So the island devil gets called Captain while I can't so much as get an Officer Pieck out of you?" She places a hand on her hip, mock pouting. "That hurts, Gabi."

Gabi rolls her eyes petulantly before barrelling into Pieck for a clumsy hug. "You're no fun!"

Pieck raises an eyebrow. "I'm the one who gave you your first taste of liquor."

"Gabi!" Falco scolds from behind.

"Go," Pieck ruffles Gabi's hair affectionately, "have your breakfast."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Gabi pulls away, grinning. "Come on, Falco!" She whips her head back at him before sprinting off to the direction of the mess hall.

The side of Falco's mouth is wobbly, looking back and forth between Pieck and Jean, then to the barrack door where they came from.

Gabi might be clueless, but he sure ain't!

His face is red as a tomato as he runs after Gabi. "Wait up!"

Jean pulls the side of Pieck's waist against him once they're gone, leaning in to kiss her temple. 

"Sweet kids," he mumbles.

He rests his hands across her stomach, lacing his fingers atop her womb. She covers his rough hands over with her own.

"Yeah," she says, thinking about this short life she signed up for. "Yeah, they are."

**Author's Note:**

> the initial outline for this fic was supposed to be cigarettes! beer! one night stands! not trauma, infertility and a future that will never come to be fUCK IM SO SORRY....gabi and falco were cute in their cameo tho ;_;


End file.
